I slept most of today, so haven't written anything, and now I'm awake at midnight. Coffee and fags of course. Daisy has captured a mouse and is trying to get it out from behind the table, and the boys are watching her - she's Top Cat, so they wouldn't dare interfere. She was the boss from the moment she met the others - she's a feisty little cat. And a prolific hunter which is rather annoying.
I feel nervous about writing this blog - it reminds me of being depressed and talking about all that pain. I can still feel the tendrils of low mood clutching at me, but they are getting fewer. It takes about a month to get over a depression, so it's no wonder I sleep a lot. I have a meeting in town, which will be the first time I've driven for 6 weeks, so I'm a bit apprehensive. The allergy to quetiapine has now hit the soles of my feet - honestly, these drugs.
I'll have another fag then go back to bed.
I spent 16 years in the RAF defending the Free World , then got bunged out unceremoniously for being bipolar. I and was subsequently diagnosed with PTSD. Funny old world, isn't it?